


One Sunrise at a Time

by amoonlitknight



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Therapy, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25757998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoonlitknight/pseuds/amoonlitknight
Summary: Catra is...Catra.Now that the universe is safe, and the great work is done, it's time to pick up pieces.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 147





	One Sunrise at a Time

“Have you given any thought to what I asked you last time?”  
  
Catra opened her mouth, immediately, to respond.  
  
That was her, wasn't it? Reactive. Immediate. She always had a response, a riposte, a counterattack—at least word, or a comment. She'd been primed since she could think.

That was _Catra_. She was _ready_.

But...

Not now. Not this time.

She shut her mouth and sighed. Perfuma's patient smile didn't budge.

“I've been thinking about something you said awhile ago,” Catra admitted. “While I was away these past few months.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Perfuma chuckled a little.  
  
Catra frowned. “What?”  
  
“I'm just glad. I worry that you struggle to take me seriously.”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“Well, I appreciate that honesty.”

Catra growled and looked away from Perfuma's delighted little smirk.

It went like this:

+

_grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change_

“Hordak.”  
  
He eyed her carefully.

“...Catra.”  
  
They could tell there were eyes on them, even if everyone was trying to hide it. It was a party, and everyone was having a good time, but it was the first party _everyone_ had been invited to, so there was a certain level of cautious anxiety that put a bit of a damper on the mood.

This was a test.

The world—the _universe—_ was a different place, now, but this was still Etheria. Too many people remembered everything that they had done together. From the outside, it was easy enough to imagine that it had all been by agreement. From that same outside, the way Catra and Hordak eyed each other uncomfortably now might be easily interpreted as caution in light of their mutual humiliation at having been defeated—but very possibly, careful desire to rekindle old and nasty acquaintance.

But of course, the two of them knew differently. Knew _better._

Catra let her eyes narrow. “Do you want to do the small talk thing, or—”

“No.”

“'kay.”

They sipped their drinks.

Catra actually liked hers, and privately delighted in knowing Hordak was faking it for everyone else's benefit. He didn't _taste_ anything, and would be just as happy drinking motor oil or drainage water from the Fright Zone—and his adaptive, controlled biology would make it as nutritious to him as the pomegranate juice was to Catra. Some people had all the luck.

“They are watching us,” Hordak growled.

“Let 'em,” Catra replied, slugging back her glass.  
  
“I do not wish to be associated with you any longer,” he continued. “I was a different person—”

Catra glared at him. “Not all of us get to hop into a new clone and pretend to be someone else, Hordak. Frankly, I wouldn't lean on that as a defense, if I were you.”

“I do not.”

“So—”

“You know better than anyone else here of what I speak,” Hordak said, eyes narrowing. “Of how all that is _you_ can be stripped away, only to return—”

“Yep! Yeah, okay, I know what you mean,” Catra interrupted irritably. She felt the scar on the back of her neck grow cold and numb, like it always did when they talked about...

You know. All of _that_.

“So I think you should understand that I wish to leave _him_ behind. And all that I did in his name,” Hordak snapped, with a slightly smug tone, as if he'd won the argument.

“We don't _get_ to.”  
  
“But—”

“But _nothing._ We don't _get_ to,” Catra repeated, in a tone that did not welcome any contradiction.

Hordak looked away, glowering and grumbling under his breath.

“Come on, man, you said it yourself. Look at them, watching us,” Catra observed. She waved her hand broadly at nobody in particular, and took quiet note of everyone who flinched. “We don't get to walk away.”

Hordak's mouth pursed. “But we can walk away from each other.”

It...hurt.

It shouldn't have, but it did. But Catra had known it, prepared for it.  
  
Maybe in a different life, the two of them could...

Could...

Something.

They'd never be friends. They _shouldn't_ be. _Couldn't_ be.

But maybe they could have been—

No.

Whatever they could have been, they weren't.

That was how it was.

“Yeah,” Catra said. “Yeah, we can.”  
  
And just like that, Hordak turned on his heel and walked away. He and Entrapta were made for each other. Literal people with literal understanding.

And they were happy.

Catra glanced away towards where Adora, Bow, and Glimmer were chatting, and saw Adora's face light up as their eyes met, and regretted nothing.

+

_courage to change the things I can_

Catra was used to it by now.

Everyone tripped over themselves to tell her not to let it get to her. That it was all in the past.  
  
Well, not _everyone_. Just the people around her— _Adora's_ friends.

It had been months now. Arrow boy, Sparkles—they were... _maybe_ friends, now. Scorpia was a friend, so long as they tread carefully. The rest—

They were trying.

But hey, where there was work to be done, Catra was there. She knew she owed it to Etheria. She accepted that. She _embraced_ that.

The tomato in her face?  
  
Well, at least it was good and rotten.

“Um,” Mermista was kind enough to say, looking uncomfortable. “So, that was uncalled for, I guess...”  
  
“No. No, no,” Catra managed, between her teeth. “I earned it.”

The crowd around them was suddenly quite quiet. Salineas had been pretty vociferous in not wanting Catra around, but the pile of stray Horde Prime bots falling to her claws had shushed them.

...for a moment.

Glimmer stepped up beside the unusually anxious-looking Mermista and raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”  
  
“Fine,” Catra murmured, ripping the sodden mass off her right eye and tossing it to the ground with a very definitive _splat_. “I get it. I know.”

“Catra, I'm sorry—”

“ _Don't_ be,” Catra snapped. “I get it.”

“Just—”

“I _get_ it,” Catra repeated, glaring at Mermista and Glimmer's uncomfortable expressions

And that would have been that, except that her instincts were good.

She barely noticed what she was doing until it was done. She felt herself spin, felt her hand reach out, felt the wet _splotch_ as she palmed the second rotten tomato—

As she came to, she realized Glimmer had flinched away. She didn't need to have moved to let Catra catch the tomato, but they both knew that Catra moving fast was a negatively associated thing.

Immediately Catra turned, rounded, pounced forward, snarling horribly—

Oh, did Salineas produce brave children.

It was a little boy, staring up at her raised claws and bared fangs fearlessly.  
  
Catra smiled viciously. Etheria was so delightfully filled with worthy foes...

“Catra!” Glimmer yelled sharply. There was a strong 'heel' tone to it, like you'd used for an disobedient hound. Someday she'd learn that was the opposite of productive with Catra, but that day was not today.  
  
And anyways, the boy was more interesting.

Catra let her snarl fall into a smirk. She stood up, matching the boy's defiant gaze.

“Did you mean to hit Queen Glimmer?” she asked, in a purr.

The boy's face soured even more than it already had. “No, I meant to hit _you._ ”

A terrified-looking woman scurried out from amongst the crowd, reaching for him. “Madam Catra, I am so sorry, I—”

“Don't insult your boy by hiding him,” Catra snapped at her, reveling in how she flinched at her savage tone, but the boy didn't.

She turned back to him...and proffered the tomato.  
  
“Take it,” she said, calmly.

He did, without hesitation.

In that moment Catra made a note to talk to Adora about adoption.

But more importantly she stood up straight, gave him an appraising look, and made a good throwing motion—stepping forward, rotating her arm all the way, following through.  
  
“You see this? How I move into the throw?” she asked, eyeing the boy suspiciously as he vaguely followed through. “Yes, like that. Move your whole body as if you're pointing it where you want it to go.”

“Like this?”

“There you go—”  
  
She had enough time to close her eyes before the tomato hit, but...

That was her whole plan.

The crowd burst into gales of laughter. The boy fell over crying, clutching his sides.

Glimmer brushed the tomato away as Catra let it all happen.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “But, you know...good job.”  
  
“What are you sorry for?” Catra said, giving Glimmer a cocky grin. “I'm a good teacher. He hit the target first try.”

They smiled together, and the rest of the mission went that much more smoothly.

+

_and wisdom to know the difference_

“I don't know that I have an answer yet,” Catra admitted.

Perfuma smiled gently. Like she always did. It was infuriating.

“But I can tell you've been working on it. Thank you for taking my question seriously.”

Catra scoffed, and looked away, out the balcony to where Adora was training with Bow and some of the Brightmoon guards.

 _What do you think forgiving yourself looks like_?  
  
She hated the question. She had cut their session short, when Perfuma had asked it...

It upset her. She didn't _want_ to forgive herself.

She was _Catra_.

For all the good things about her, there were a thousand sins she could never erase. She knew herself to be a white cloth stained in blood and oil, tattered with war and savagery and selfishness and stupidity...

And yet.

Later, she and Bow were going to test an invention of his together. He wanted _her_ to test it, not anyone else, for some reason.

Later, Glimmer wanted her to comment on a new agricultural plan in the former Fright Zone. The former Horde was repopulating it and they were eager to just live in peace, now that the world had changed, and they needed to set up a sustainable food source.

Later, Entrapta and Scorpia wanted to have a private holo-call together for old times' sake.

Tonight she'd curl into bed with Adora. She'd kiss Adora's forehead goodnight, the way she'd had to hold herself back from doing ten thousand times when they were younger, but now their love was real and free and she could just let it out.

“I don't know yet,” Catra said, feeling pathetic as her voice failed to be as sure as she thought she felt.

Perfuma smiled. “That's why we'll meet again in a few weeks.”

Catra said nothing as Perfuma rose and left the room.

 _What do you think forgiving yourself looks like_?  
  
She thought about it—empty, useless thoughts, really—until the door opened again and Adora walked in.

And Catra knew.

Someday, she'd earn the love in Adora's eyes.

She wanted to. She'd deserve it.

“But not yet,” she whispered, into the kiss.

But her heart was comforted.

That day got closer, one sunrise at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> For all my brothers, sisters, friends, and comrades in therapy and recovery...
> 
> Isn't it hard to love yourself, even when everyone is willing to love you? And yet, we must. 
> 
> Something short and fluffy because I'm hurting a bit.


End file.
